


no death is sweeter than this

by majesdane



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/F, Original Character Death(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/F/F, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 16:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30108882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: They always hunt together, never alone. But this evening is different.A small, smutty sequel to theCarmillaAU.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	no death is sweeter than this

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [run through the world with me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372560) by [majesdane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane). 



> a gift, of sorts, for [holeybubushka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holeybubushka); friend, avid vampire lover, talented writer of debauchery. 

be selfish and cruel and think nothing of them. i am selfish. i am cruel. my mate cannot be less than i.  
— _deathless_ , catherynne m. valente

* * *

They always hunt together, never alone. 

But this evening is different.

From her little table, cloistered away in a dark corner of the club, Raelle watches Scylla flirt with another girl.

*

The whole thing was Scylla's idea. 

She'd brought it up last week, while they'd lounged together in the late summer sun, enjoying their little private stretch of beach. 

"You can say no, of course," Scylla told Raelle, curling up beside her on the blanket and pressing feather-light kisses to Raelle's shoulder. "But I think you might like it."

It was their anniversary in two weeks — they'd settled on a universal date in between their first evening together back in ‘89 and years later when Scylla had finally turned Raelle — and Scylla had an idea in mind to celebrate. 

Her idea being, plainly, that they would go on the hunt to find a girl who would sate more than just their _blood_ appetite. 

Raelle had blushed at the suggestion. She'd become much more adventurous in the past few years, but this was a little different. 

Scylla laughed and kissed the tip of Raelle's nose. "You're the only one for me, käresta," she said. "But, trust me. It would be fun."

"Have you done that kind of thing before?"

The look on Scylla's face told Raelle _yes_ , Scylla _had_.

"Bryon and I, once or twice," Scylla admitted, with a shrug. "It was a century ago. The challenge of it helped kill the boredom. We had our fun and then drank our fill." She nuzzled against Raelle, hugging her tight. "I understand if you don't want to."

"No," Raelle said, surprising herself. "No, I want to."

Scylla had grinned then, her hand sliding into Raelle's swim trunks. 

"Well, then," she murmured, her fingers seeking Raelle out, her tongue darting over Raelle's nipple, through her shirt. "Here's what we need to do."

*

The girl is pretty, with wavy, deep chestnut hair and tan skin. Even with Scylla wearing heels, the girl's still a few inches taller. Her curves are slight, but there's an obvious muscular tone to her legs and arms. Looking at her reminds Raelle of her old high school fling, the star basketball player. It's been years now, but the thought of all their heated fumbling in the backseat stirs something inside Raelle now.

 _This is the one_ , she thinks.

Scylla's come to the same conclusion; Raelle can tell by the pleased smile on Scylla's face, as she watches the girl throw back a shot of tequila, sucking hard on a lime, giggling. 

"A little drunk is fine," Scylla had explained to Raelle earlier. "Alcohol is good for loosening tongues and lowering inhibitions. But anything more than that." She'd made a face. "It's distasteful. We're _elegant_ hunters, after all."

Raelle's anxious for Scylla to bring the girl over; she wants to get a better look at their prey. She's already imaging the girl between them, skin on skin, flushed and perspiring. 

Plus, she's hungry. 

She's gotten better at controlling her hunger, but she's nowhere on the level of Scylla or the others. They've had centuries of practice. Scylla's been teaching her how to best curb her desires, but it's an uphill climb. Raelle can only go a few weeks yet without turning wolfish and feral. Thankfully, Scylla's shown Raelle how to drink only small amounts of blood from her victims — not enough to harm them, but enough to sate her hunger. It takes the edge off. 

Besides that, it makes it easier for them to hide in plain sight that way. Disposing of bodies is an unpleasant task, but prowling is even more difficult. Scylla routinely grumbles about the dawning of the twenty-first century, how there are more ways to get caught than ever before.

Not that they _would_ get caught. There's plenty of places they could flee to, lie low in for as long as necessary. Sarah Alder is endlessly wealthy, and she's squirreled away her money and resources and hideouts all over the globe. Given a long enough span, they could outrun anything. 

"But that would be troublesome," as Scylla explained. "Hiding is dreadfully boring."

Raelle had thought of little Scylla then, just barely twenty, running through the bare forest, dead, frost-stiff leaves crunching underfoot.

Something like that never left you.

Scylla had taught Raelle rules for hunting, but this sort of thing required extra caution. As of now, their victims either left mostly unharmed or was someone whose disappearance would go mostly — if not entirely — unnoticed, their bodies disposed of discretely. 

Avoiding suspicion of any kind was the highest priority. 

A lone girl looking for a hook-up in a club — especially a nearly pitch-black gay club in Boston — was unremarkable. But as a couple, they would stand out. Especially with Raelle sporting such a distinctive facial scar.

Which is exactly why Raelle's waiting in the wings right now.

She doesn't really mind, though; she was never very good at flirting with pretty girls. 

"Raelle," Scylla says smoothly, suddenly standing in front of her. "How's your drink, darling?"

"Oh." Raelle casts a glance down at her glass, ice cubes melting in her whiskey. "It's fine." She takes a pointed sip, as if to illustrate her point, then glances around at the girl hovering just behind Scylla.

Scylla winks at Raelle, then turns to the girl, drawing her forward. "Let me introduce you — "

The music in the club is loud; Raelle can hardly be faulted for not hearing the girl's name.

Or, at least, it's the excuse she gives herself; she prefers not to know her victims. Names are important; they lend a kind of intimacy to an event she'd rather be as disassociated from as possible. The more anonymous the encounter, the better. It makes things easier, helps assuage the tiny pangs of guilt that occasionally creep up on her.

The girl smiles at Raelle. When she takes a sip of her beer, Raelle can't help but stare at the bob of her throat. 

"We were just going to dance for a little bit," Scylla says, effortlessly casual. As if this is just a regular thing for them. "Do you mind?"

Raelle shakes her head. "No. I'll be here."

Scylla hums, satisfied. With a smile, she leans in to kiss Raelle, her lips sticky with a thin sheen of gloss and tequila. "Soon," she says, low and throaty, and it's like an electric shock to Raelle's system.

She shifts in her seat as she watches Scylla lead the girl to the edge of the dance floor, pressing their bodies close. She thought she'd be more prone to jealousy, but right now all she feels is insanely turned on. There's something exciting about watching Scylla with another woman — though, she suspects, that's mostly because she knows it means nothing. 

This girl is nothing. Simply a tool for Raelle and Scylla's enjoyment. To hunt and play with, until they've had their fill. And Raelle's in awe of just how _good_ Scylla is at ensnaring her prey.

Raelle knows first hand just how utterly beguiling Scylla can be, and she's seen Scylla hunt a dozen or so times by now, but it still hasn't lost its thrill quite yet. 

Perhaps it shouldn't excite her so much. But heat pools low in her belly anyway, and she knows she's wet. 

Her skin buzzes with desire. Her stomach cramps in hunger. She can't wait to have this girl under her — can't wait to fuck her, to feed from her.

But she forces herself to stay patient and focused. There'll be time for that yet; the night is still young.

She takes a sip of her whiskey, grateful for the burn.

*

"We've got a place nearby," Scylla says, outside. She produces a lighter out of seemingly nowhere, lighting the girl's cigarette with one smooth flick of her wrist. 

The girl takes a long drag of her cigarette, eying them. Raelle's slouching against the cool brick wall, hands in her pockets.

Scylla flips her hair coquettishly. "Or not," she says. "Either way, our driver will be here in a minute."

"You have a driver?" the girl exhales a thin stream of bluish smoke from the corner of her mouth. "Swank."

"So?"

Raelle knows that tone. Teasing and challenging. She's looking down the road, waiting for Byron to roll up. He won't be driving Sarah Alder's Bentley this time — something much more nondescript, aside from tinted windows. 

But even without seeing Scylla's face, Raelle can imagine her expression. The quirked eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing across her lips. 

And she knows the girl won't be able to resist.

She licks her lips, biting back a new surge of hunger and lust.

After a long pause, the girl shrugs. She drops her half-finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out under her heel. "Sure. Why not?"

*

It's not a terribly long drive from Boston to North Andover, but to Raelle, the minutes crawl by unbearably slow.

She digs her fingers into her thigh, jiggling her leg impatiently.

Scylla, beside her, soothes Raelle with a kiss. "There now, my love," she whispers hotly against Raelle's ear, her hand covering Raelle's. "Control yourself."

*

For more than a year now, they've rented a stocky colonial at the dead end of a quiet street. The walkway is lined with shoulder-high shrubs and the house is flanked on both sides by towering oak trees. The foliage provides ample protection from any nosey neighbors without seeming out of place. 

They've made a point of visiting with some degree of frequency, making friendly overtures with the neighbors for appearances' sake. In their absence, Byron looks after the place, using it for his dalliances as he sees fit.

"Nice place," the girl says, shrugging off her light jacket and tossing it over the back of an armchair. 

Scylla's mouth is a sly, knife-sharp grin. "You should see the bedroom."

*

Raelle's got her mouth on the girl's cunt, licking a long, slow stripe from the bottom all the way up to her clit, pink and swollen with arousal. She laps lightly, experimentally; once, then twice. The girl moans, squirming. Raelle digs her fingers into the soft, giving flesh of the girl's thighs, holding her in place. She turns her head so that she can skim her mouth along the inside of the girl's left thigh, light and teasing. 

Raelle's excitement is heady and intoxicating — but at this moment, it's not from the sex. In her mind's eye, she's imagining the girl's femoral artery. Beneath the layers of tan skin and sinewy muscle, the vein thick and visceral and full of hot, pumping blood. Raelle can't hear the _thump_ of the girl's heart, but she imagines it — thinks of the rush of adrenaline and desire.

Time seems to slow. Her mouth waters. Her grip on the girl's thighs tightens. Her breathing comes rough and shuddery. The hunger is overwhelming; she feels the telltale prick of her fangs and she opens her mouth to bite —

"Raelle."

Scylla's voice cuts through the haze of Raelle's single-minded desire.

She looks up to meet Scylla's gaze.

Scylla has her fingers wrapped delicately around the girl's throat, tilting the girl's head back. She's got her mouth on the girl's neck, kissing the curve of it; she's smirking as she does so, her eyes glittering in the semi-darkness like ocean-hued jewels. 

Scylla's sitting propped up against the pillows. In front of her sits the girl, her back to Scylla, while Raelle's on her belly between both pairs of their spread legs. 

Not for the first time, Raelle marvels at Scylla's incredible restraint. Her mind flashes back to all the times Scylla went down on her, back in college; only once had Scylla ever actually fed from Raelle's thigh. To be able to resist such a strong, animalistic instinct again and again —

"You're neglecting our guest, Raelle." Scylla's hand settles on the back of Raelle's head, gently directing Raelle's attention back to the wet cunt in front of her face. 

Raelle nods. She surges forward, wrapping her lips around the girl's clit and sucking greedily. The girl moans again, straining against Raelle's mouth and hands. Raelle tries to channel her bloodlust into nothing but pure, _normal_ lust. After a minute or two of sucking, she returns to administering flat, slow licks to the girl's clit, eyes flitting up once more to stare up at Scylla and the girl.

She watches as Scylla captures the girl's mouth in a needy kiss, hot and wet and messy, tongues meeting and sliding. Scylla's hand slides up to cover a breast, squeezing once, then plucking at the taut nipple. Raelle can feel her own arousal renewed, the pooling wetness between her thighs, making them slick. Her cunt throbs with need. She presses her hips down, grinding haphazardly against the mattress, trying to eek out some small measure of relief.

Scylla turns to look at her, flushed and panting. She crooks her leg, digging her heel into Raelle's back, between her shoulders, urging her on. Raelle groans against the girl's cunt; she lets go of one tensing thigh so that she can ease two fingers inside. 

The girl bucks against Raelle's mouth and hand. Her hips roll in unison with Raelle's hard, shallow thrusts. The awkward angle sends an early twinge of a cramp up Raelle's arm, but she ignores it. All she can do is stare at Scylla while she fucks into the girl with her fingers, tongue narrowed to a point and circling the girl's clit. She can feel the girl edging closer and closer to orgasm and it spurs her on.

Raelle closes her eyes, concentrates on the smell of the girl, the scent of her arousal; not at all like Scylla.

But, then — no one is. No one ever could be.

And Scylla, somewhere above her, is murmuring things to the girl. Raelle only catches bits and pieces, but they're all variations on a theme: _good girl; are you close?; I want to feel you come against me_.

It's only moments later when the girl finally _does_ come with a strangled cry, tensing then shuddering, her cunt clenching down hard on Raelle's fingers as her orgasm pulses through her.

Raelle slows her ministrations, helps draw the girl down from her high. 

When at last the girl's breathing has become more subdued, her walls no longer fluttering around Raelle's fingers, Raelle sits up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She's greeted with the sight of the girl slumped against Scylla, flush with satisfaction. Scylla's trailing small, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, along her collarbone and to her shoulder. Both of her hands cover the girl's breasts, massaging gently. 

Raelle shifts, uncomfortably wet, thrumming with arousal and hunger.

Scylla looks up, and for a second, Raelle thinks that _now_ will finally be the time when Scylla allows for them to indulge in their _other_ appetites.

But instead Scylla says, "Raelle, darling. The strap-on, please."

Nodding dumbly, Raelle climbs off the bed, hurrying over to the dresser where they keep their modest collection of sex toys. For all of Scylla's centuries of sexual prowess, Raelle's always amused at how much Scylla prefers to simply have Raelle's head between her legs. She picks out a moderately average sized dildo before stepping into the harness and pulling the straps snug.

In Raelle's absence, Scylla has coaxed the girl on to her knees. With the girl sitting back on her haunches, Scylla leans forward to drag her tongue around a hard nipple, taking it into her mouth and sucking slowly. Raelle watches from a foot away, the wet ache of her cunt now even more persistent than her hunger. She clambers onto the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight, the dildo bobbing ridiculously.

"Come here, Raelle," Scylla commands.

Raelle shuffles in on her knees so that she's beside the girl.

Scylla reaches for her — Raelle leans in, warm and pleased to finally be kissing Scylla again. Their prey is lovely and gorgeous, but it's _Scylla_ that Raelle wants. Has always wanted, since the first day they met. She doesn't mind the two of them sharing a bed with a third — not in this rare, special case — but if given the opportunity, she'd always much rather have Scylla all to herself.

Scylla's fingers stroke her cheek. When they break apart from the kiss, Scylla runs the tip of her nose up and down the length of Raelle's own; a soft, intimate gesture that means she feels the same as Raelle.

"Käresta," Scylla purrs against Raelle's ear, warm and sugary. "You're doing so well. Just a little more."

She pushes Raelle away gently with a soft laugh, tugging the girl down for a long, languid kiss. 

It takes a moment for the three of them to re-situate themselves on the bed. Scylla's still lounged back against the pillows, looking marvelously goddess-like, but now the girl's shifted downward so that her face is in line with Scylla's cunt. Her arched back presents her own cunt and ass to Raelle, who grips her hips eagerly, pushing her own hips forward so that the dildo slides across the girl's slick folds teasingly.

"Lube," the girl mutters, "please," and Raelle obliges, slipping away again to grab the bottle from their dresser drawer.

Raelle works her hand over the shaft of the dildo, covering it with a slippery layer of lubricant, as Scylla threads her hands into the girl's hair, pushing her cunt up into the girl's face.

It feels mildly obscene — Raelle stroking the dildo while she watches Scylla grind against the girl's tongue. It's Raelle's filthiest teenage fantasy come to life.

She can't help herself: she hurries over to the bed, quickly positioning herself behind the girl. Taking hold of the cock, she guides it to the girl's entrance. It slides in easily and Raelle groans loudly as she pushes in all the way up to the hilt. The base of the harness presses pleasantly against Raelle's clit; she stays like that for a moment, still, enjoying the sensation.

But then the girl — her small whines of pleasure muffled by her current ministrations — rocks back and off the dildo, and Raelle's brain goes a little fuzzy. She widens her stance just a bit and begins to thrust in earnest, setting up a hard but leisurely pace. The room fills with the sounds of their lovemaking: the slap of skin on skin; the slide of the dildo being worked in and out; their labored breathing — pants and gasps and moans. 

Scylla, one hand still on the girl's head, knees drawn up and splayed lewdly, stretches out her free hand towards Raelle. Raelle grabs it, hunching over to kiss Scylla's knuckles.

They hold hands for a long moment, fingers intertwined, gazing at one another over the back of the girl between them, driving and being driven to the very heights of gratification.

Raelle can see Scylla's getting close — the tiny whimpers, the way her arm grows slack, eyes fluttering closed — and the realization fills Raelle with equal parts jealousy and arousal. She picks up speed, thrusting in as deep and hard as she can. 

The girl arches and moans in response, snaking a hand between her own thighs and stroking clumsily. Raelle reaches down to grab the girl's wrist.

"Let me," she growls. "Pay attention to _her_."

The girl moans again but does as she's told, wrapping her arms around Scylla's thighs and nosing in closer.

Raelle watches as Scylla bites her lip, head thrown back. She's starting to get sore, her ass and thighs and abs straining from keeping up such a fast, rough pace. She grunts, finding the girl's clit and grinding her fingers against it. There's no finesse at all, but she really doesn't care.

 _Especially_ not when Scylla rakes her blunted nails along the girl's smooth back. It's not enough to break the skin, but it _is_ enough to cause bright red welts. Again, Raelle's hunger tries to wrest control from her. She can picture the blood coming to the surface, imagining leaning over and smearing her face against it, licking needily.

"Scylla," she croaks out, desperate to feed.

She can feel the girl's movements growing frantic beneath her, close to coming a second time.

Scylla gazes at Raelle with a knowing smile. "Come here, dearest," she says to the girl, tugging on her shoulders. 

The girl struggles up onto her hands, breasts swaying with every pump of Raelle's hips. Scylla kisses the girl once on the mouth, then along the curve of the girl's neck.

Raelle can see Scylla's fangs, dripping with saliva. She watches with awe and lust and famine as Scylla bites down quickly into the girl's neck.

It doesn't hurt much at all — only a sudden sting. Raelle knows from experience; mostly it feels good. Euphoric. The girl cries out and Raelle presses her fingers against the girl's clit _hard_ , bringing her to climax. 

Blood tastes so much sweeter when drunk during the elation of orgasm. Raelle can't help herself; she pulls out, hunching down so that she can lick at the girl's cunt, then at the wetness coating the insides of the girl's thighs. She sinks her fangs in deep, finding the artery and sucking wildly. It's only been a few weeks since they last fed, but Raelle finds herself ravenous. 

She gulps the blood down greedily, feeling it sliding down and dripping off her chin.

Distantly she knows that she's making a mess of Scylla's fine bedsheets, but right now, monstrously single-minded, she couldn't care less.

"That's enough," Scylla says suddenly, pulling Raelle away.

She's extricated herself from the girl's embrace, the body now limply sprawled out on the bed, still lewdly positioned, thanks to Raelle.

Scylla's mouth is dark with blood.

Raelle swallows, wiping at her own mouth with sudden self-awareness.

"Come now, Raelle," Scylla says in dulcet tones. She kisses Raelle once, chastely. Her tongue darts out to lick at the blood on Raelle's mouth and chin. "There's no need to rush. A meal as fine as this requires _patient_ indulgence."

*

They flip the girl over so that she's lying on her back, head angled against the pillows, arms by her sides, legs spread just a little. She's not quite dead yet; only unconscious. Blood seeps in thin, weak streams from the knife-point puncture wounds on her neck and thigh. Her face has taken on a pale, sickly pallor.

A small part of Raelle roils in horror at the sight. It's one thing to feed and drain a human completely — or even just to take a small drink to temporarily sate her hunger. This feels too . . . intimate.

But Scylla doesn't seem to be bothered at all, and Raelle drops her unease like a nightgown. This is their nature — to seduce, to kill. There is no changing it, however awful or unfair it might be, so she'll have to content herself with the knowledge that at least the girl's last few hours were pleasant and painless. It's a luxury not afforded to many, she knows.

They stretch out on the bed on either side of the girl.

Scylla turns the girl's heck, proffering her neck to Raelle.

"Drink, käresta. But — slowly. Enjoy it."

Raelle nods, dipping her head and slotting her fangs into the holes previously made by Scylla. Immediately she's rewarded with the thick, coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. She forces herself to suckle gently, fighting the urge to simply tear the girl's throat open and drink her fill right then and then.

Scylla nuzzles against her. "That's it. You're doing so well, älskling."

Raelle hums in approval, pulling her mouth away for a moment and turning her head to kiss Scylla.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"In a moment. I prefer to watch you."

Something so monstrous should not make Raelle's heart swell with affection, but it does anyway. She kisses Scylla again before returning to drink more. A minute or so later she feels the body beneath her shift slightly, and she cracks an eye open to watch Scylla begin to feed from a spot on the girl's chest, just above her breast.

It's the same way Scylla had fed off Raelle, many, many times. Raelle recalls with striking clarity on their last evening together back in college, when she gave explicit permission for Scylla to drink from her. The small, sharp prick of her teeth. The elation that bloomed inside Raelle. Scylla's hand between her legs, drawing Raelle to orgasm, mouth dripping red with blood.

The memory sends a low lick of flames across her belly. It occurs to Raelle that in all of this, neither she nor Scylla actually got off. The wet ache between her thighs, temporarily forgotten, now pulses with new urgency. She groans, overtaken by a new hunger.

Scylla leans up on her elbows. "Nearly finished," she says, surveying the girl's body. Daintily, she wipes a small smear of blood away from the corner of her mouth. She eyes Raelle with a knowing smirk. "Are you still worked up?"

Raelle nods, licking away a little bit of blood and sitting up. She hasn't bothered to slip off the strap-on; when she shifts, she can feel herself newly wet, and the base of the harness moves against her teasingly.

Her tiny whimper doesn't go unnoticed. With a finishing swipe of her tongue, Scylla sits up.

She leans across the body to kiss Raelle once more, then climbs down off the bed, scooping the girl — now pale and limp and lifeless — up into her arms. 

"Just a moment."

Raelle, warm and sated from her meal, stretches out on the bed with a satisfied sigh, waiting for Scylla to return. Soon enough, she hears the soft pad of Scylla's feet on the wood floors. She sits up a little bit, leaning back against the pillows.

She can't help but gape a little as Scylla strolls into the room. She's smeared blood on her nipples, down the front of her stomach. It's in stark, striking contrast to her pale skin, and Raelle's mouth waters at the sight of her. 

Scylla crawls onto the bed, straddling Raelle's legs, her cunt pressed against the strap-on. "Lick," she says, simply, and Raelle obliges her.

She swirls her tongue under one nipple, then the other, feeling them grow hard under her touch. Scylla moans quietly, arching slightly as Raelle licks her way down the flat plane of her stomach. She can smell Scylla's heady arousal, her folds shiny with wetness. She watches as Scylla rubs herself against the dildo, pressing her own thighs together for some small amount of relief.

Scylla cups Raelle's face in her hands, draws their mouths together for a long, hard kiss. "You did so well this evening," she says, smoothing Raelle's hair back and smiling appreciatively. "Did you enjoy your anniversary present?"

Raelle chuckles. "You know I did. However . . . " she slides her hand between them, finding Scylla's swollen clit and stroking lightly. "I'll enjoy it more now that it's just the two of us."

"Is that so?" Scylla smiles. She kisses Raelle again, dropping a hand down to press gently on Raelle's chest, pushing her back down onto the pillows. "It's your turn to watch, now."

Raelle licks her lips, eyes darting down to where Scylla is straddling her.

Scylla sits up a little, taking hold of the dildo and guiding it towards her entrance. Raelle's about to ask if Scylla wants lube, but she doesn't have a chance: exhaling shakily, Scylla eases herself down onto the dildo, inch by inch. Raelle's mouth goes dry, watching as it parts Scylla's thick folds, disappearing up inside of her. It takes everything in her not to thrust up into Scylla, allowing her a moment to adjust to the new girth.

And then Scylla begins to roll her hips — a slow, leisurely motion that Raelle tries to match with try upwards thrusts, her hands settling on Scylla's thighs.

She can't help but stare at Scylla, looking as beautiful as ever in the pale moonlight, her dark hair falling around her face in gentle waves, the slight bounce of her breasts. Her head tipped back, eyes shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth. 

For a moment, everything else fades away. Raelle forgets where they are, what they've done this evening. All she can concentrate on is Scylla moving on top of her and the way the base of the strap-on grinds against her clit. She feels like glowing embers being stoked slowly into flames. 

She moves her hands up to cover Scylla's breasts, feeling the hardened nipples under her palms. Scylla groans. She covers Raelle's hands with her own, the speed of her rocking increasing by a fraction. 

Raelle thinks Scylla must be close, after being eaten out earlier. But she also knows that Scylla needs _more_ ; she won't be able to come from penetration alone. So Raelle pulls one of her hands free, sliding it down to stroke at Scylla's clit, delighting in the high-pitched whimper the action produces.

Scylla slumps over, bracing herself against the headboard.

"Raelle," she pants, face flushed cherry-blossom pink. "Raelle, Raelle — please. I want to feel you on top of me."

Raelle hardly needs to be told twice. Sitting up, she grabs hold of Scylla's waist and unceremoniously flips them over. Scylla nips at Raelle's jaw, her ear, her neck, as Raelle shifts between Scylla's legs to find the right angle. Scylla fingers dig into Raelle's ass as she spreads her legs wide, allowing Raelle to settle.

It takes Raelle a few thrusts to properly get her bearings. But then Scylla intertwines their legs and Raelle, on her elbows and hovering just above Scylla, begins to pump in earnest. 

"Touch yourself," she murmurs against Scylla's ear.

She feels Scylla's hand slip between their bodies, the minute jerk of her arm as she strokes her clit while Raelle pounds into her, as rough and wild as a teenage boy. She drops her head, panting damply against Scylla's neck. Scylla's free hand threads through her hair, tugging lightly, urging Raelle on.

They move together on the bed, needy and fevered, Scylla's hips rising to meet every hard thrust. 

"Raelle, Raelle, Raelle," Scylla mewls, her face pressed neatly against the crook of Raelle's neck.

Raelle can feel Scylla's tensing between her, the movements of her arm growing sporadic. She gathers her strength, thrusts into Scylla with renewed energy.

Scylla cries out as she comes, gasping out a few choice old-fashioned Swedish expletives that Raelle's become very familiar with. She likes it; it's a lovely privilege, being able to reduce Scylla to a quivering mess who reverts back to her native language. 

Scylla wraps her arms around Raelle's neck, turning her head so that they can kiss. It's the kind of lazy, open-mouthed kisses that they trade when they're lying together in the sun-soaked mornings of their luscious Kittery bed. The kind of kisses that make Raelle feel warm all the way down to her toes.

"Mm." Scylla sighs, nestling against Raelle. "That was nice."

They lay like that for a little while, until Raelle, conscious that she's still inside Scylla, pushes herself up and gently pulls the dildo out of Scylla. Scylla winces as it comes free with an almost imperceptible _pop_ , pressing her thighs together. 

"I believe you're still in need," she says, ushering Raelle under the covers once Raelle's shucked off the harness, kicking it aside. 

Raelle allows herself to be pinned to the bed with a light kiss. 

Scylla's knee is between her thighs instantly, pressing right where Raelle needs it the most. Raelle's _wet_ ; her and Scylla's thighs are both sticky with arousal. Her cunt aches to be attended to properly. 

Scylla presses a flurry of kisses to Raelle's face and neck, rocking her knee back and forth against Raelle's cunt.

"What would you like, käresta? Hmm?" She drags her tongue along the line of Raelle's jaw, down her neck to the dip at the base of Raelle's throat. "Since it _is_ our anniversary, perhaps . . . "

She shifts into a position reminiscent of the many times they made love when Raelle was still in college: her hand between Raelle's thighs, their legs threaded together, while she sucks languorously on Raelle's erect nipple.

Raelle groans, gripping Scylla's shoulder with one hand and the pillows behind her head. She's so, so wet. The slide of Scylla's fingers along her folds make the most positively obscene sounds. There's barely any friction at all, just rough pressure against Raelle's clit. It's wonderful, but it's not _quite_ enough.

"Inside," Raelle gasps, spreading her legs a little further. "Scyl, I need . . . "

Scylla shushes her with a kiss, dipping her hand lower. She slides a single digit into Raelle, who moans appreciatively, feeling herself clench around it. After a few shallow thrusts, Scylla adds a second finger. Raelle feels terrifically filled. She throws her head back, luxuriating in the dual sensations of Scylla's hand between her legs and Scylla's mouth on her nipple, sucking hard.

Raelle lets go of Scylla's shoulder so that she can stroke her other, neglected nipple, breathing in sharply as a new jolt of pleasure spikes through her. God, she's close, so close already. She's been keyed up since the moment this evening first began, watching the girl fall for Scylla's charming maneuvers.

She needs —

As if reading her mind, Scylla presses her thumb against Raelle's clit, stroking quickly.

It doesn't take very long for Raelle to come after that. Just a few swipes of Scylla's thumb and she's toppling over the edge, jerking up against Scylla's hand, seeing stars between her eyelids.

She slumps back against the bed, marvelously spent. Scylla withdraws her fingers, skimming them along Raelle's cunt and coaxing a series of shuddery aftershocks. Raelle watches as Scylla brings her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers clean one by one, her gaze locked on Raelle the entire time.

 _Fuck._ Raelle thinks she could come again just from the very sight.

Scylla sighs contentedly, draping an arm across Raelle's stomach and curling in close. "Happy anniversary, käresta."

"A very happy one indeed." Raelle kisses the top of Scylla's head. She draws a tiny heart with her index finger on the back of Scylla's shoulder and feels Scylla smile. "I love you."

"Forever."

"Forever," Raelle agrees, smiling as well.

She yawns, exhaustion settling over her. 

Scylla leans up for a kiss. "Sleep," she orders gently, against Raelle's mouth.

What can Raelle do but comply?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [99bad_habits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/99bad_habits/) for looking this over.


End file.
